


Summer's Heart, Winter's Light

by end_alls



Category: Disney Fairies, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, M/M, side kairi/olette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_alls/pseuds/end_alls
Summary: Soriku Pixie Hollow AU where Sora is an animal healing fairy from Summer and Riku is a light fairy from Winter, and their wings share a connection that hasn’t been seen before (love, it’s tru love)





	1. Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> [Here’s art I made of their designs!](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1142178711229423624) And thank you to [hearts_in_tune](https://twitter.com/hearts_in_tune) on twitter for hollering with me about this

“I can’t thank you enough for coming…” a small, blonde fairy was murmuring as she petted the snow bunting’s soft head. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t get her to calm down enough to stay off that leg. Everything I tried just seemed to make it worse…”

“You did the best you could,” Sora said with a reassuring smile. “And now that you’ve got the best animal healer fairy in all of Pixie Hollow on the case, there’s nothing to worry about!” He flashed an exaggerated grin and put down the supplies he was preparing so that he could place his hands proudly on his hips.

The other fairy—Naminé—gave him a tinkling laugh. “If you heal her, I’ll happily call you the king of Neverland.”

The bird resting in the nest beside them had caught her leg on a crack in a snow-covered branch, and Sora had been called in all the way from Summer to come take a look at it. He’d bundled up well enough, but his wings had been prickling ever since he’d crossed the border, and not even an insulating layer of frost had been enough to stop the sensation. He’d have to ask another healing fairy about it once he’d finished here.

“King of Neverland? I like the sound of that.” Sora laid out his cleaning supplies, and had Naminé help him shift the bird to her side so he could get a clear look at the wound. It was pretty concerning, but Sora didn’t let it show on his face. “And what’s my patient’s name?”

“Dawn.” The bird let out a soft peep at the sound of her name, and Naminé laughed again.

“Dawn, huh?” Sora asked, giving her wing a fond pat. “She’s just as pretty as her name!”

Naminé nodded, letting a small smile break on her cloudy face. “She’s my best subject.” The walls of the hut were covered with her drawings, and there was a whole section—the space closest to her bed—that was adorned in sketches of the snow bunting.

“All right Naminé,” Sora began, “this next part’s gonna sting a little, so can you keep her calm?”

Naminé gave a resolute nod, and Dawn tried to squirm as Sora began his work, but Naminé kept stroking her head, soft and even and soothing.

“So how did you meet her?” Sora asked as he methodically cleaned the bird’s wound. Naminé’s voice kept Dawn from shifting too much, so he wanted to keep her talking. The wound wasn’t going to need sutures, but it was beginning to show signs of infection.

“My friend found her nest. He works high up on the mountain, at night, and he knows how much I love drawing birds, so he told me where to find her. I started flying up there to draw her every day, and he comes with me sometimes, when he's not too sleepy.”

“He sounds like a good friend.” Once the wound was clean, Sora started applying a poultice one of the flower fairies had made for him—one with a bitter taste that kept animals from licking it off.

“He is,” she said warmly. “And so talented. His paintings are beautiful. I used to have to get my paint colors imported from Summer, but he makes some all on his own, and he lets me use them.”

“That’s so nice,” Sora responded automatically. To stop the infection, he’d have to teach Naminé how to apply the poultice and change the bandages a couple times a day, or else he’d need to make trips here to do it himself. A concentrated light might help the healing process, too—he could ask a light fairy to come back with him next time.

“I think his work last night was some of his best,” Naminé went on. “I asked him how he did it, and he just he said he was feeling inspired.”

Sora nodded, focused on his own task. He was in the middle of wrapping the leg with leaf bandages when a distracting shiver shot through his wings, like they’d been hit with a cool breeze.

“Oh…”

Another shiver came, sending Sora spinning towards the source of the new voice: a winter fairy standing in Naminé’s threshold. His shoulders shifted uncomfortably as his lavender wings fluttered, like he was having a similar sensation.

As their eyes met, Sora felt like he was falling, then flying, as the fairy’s eyes shone at him with the same spark of teal green that he’d seen painted across the Winter Woods’ night skies.

“I’ll come back later,” the snowy-haired fairy said. “I didn’t know you were…” He trailed off, breaking the connection as he averted his eyes. To Sora, it felt like the sun had been pulled behind a sudden cloud.

“You should stay, Riku,” Naminé said. “Dawn likes you. You can help me keep her calm while he finishes up.” She gestured to Sora with a dainty hand. “This is Sora, the animal healer from Summer. Sora, this is my friend Riku. He’s the one I was talking about.”

Riku shifted, like he was uncomfortable with having been talked about, or he was also being assailed by persistent shivers through his wings. His clothes were a deep, night-sky blue, and streaked with familiar color. Like his eyes, they were the same colors Sora had seen mixed in the auroras of a hundred nights he’d spent looking at the stars when he couldn’t sleep.

Sora realized he was staring, and blinked the stars out of his eyes. “R-Right! It’s just the bandages now, and then we’ll have to go over aftercare.”

Naminé nodded, and Riku hesitantly took a step closer. The moment he moved, it sent another shiver through both their wings, and their eyes met again, confusion running between them. The sensation wasn’t painful, or even unwelcome, but it was strange, and unlike anything Sora had ever felt, or even heard about.

Riku came gingerly closer, sending the shivers into a prolonged thrum that seemed to resonate between them. Naminé was unaffected, cooing at Dawn and nuzzling her beak. Finally, Riku reached out to give Dawn his own familiar pet.

Sora spun his attention back down to the injured leg, and wrapped the bandages as quickly as he could. He stuck the end of the bandage together with a glob of honey, and stood. His heart was flitting in his chest like he’d eaten an entire coffee bean, and he didn’t know if he liked it, or if he should already be en route to his own healing fairy. For several moments he stared down at the bandaged leg, lost in thought.

“Aftercare?” Riku prompted, pulling Sora’s attention back. Riku’s cheeks looked flushed, like he might be coming down with something too.

“Yes! Aftercare!” Sora scrambled to dig through his bag, trying to ignore how Riku was staring at _him_ now, and laid out the supplies he’d been using. “You’ll need to change the bandages twice a day. Apply that poultice to the affected area, seal it with honey, then wrap it in clean bandages.” He pointed to each in turn, then looked to Naminé to keep himself from getting trapped in Riku’s eyes again. “I’ll come back tomorrow with a light fairy who can help stimulate the damaged tissue.”

“A light fairy?” Naminé questioned, looking from him to Riku, whose eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to protest, but she went on. “You don’t need to bring someone all that way—if you tell him what to do, I bet Riku can help with what you need.”

Sora’s heart flipped. The auroras. “So Riku’s a…”

“A light fairy,” Riku finished, running a hand over the back of his neck with a shrug. “I… I’ll do what I can.”

Sora felt like he might faint. He had to leave before he dropped like a butterfly in the middle of someone else’s house. He had to have himself examined immediately. Riku should probably be looked at too—closely, long and hard and—

“I’ll be back tomorrow to check on Dawn again,” Sora quickly said, before stranger things could cross his lips.

Naminé beamed. “Thank you so much, Sora!”

Dawn cooed her own thanks, and Riku let out a strange noise between a grunt and a cough.

“My pleasure!” Sora gave Dawn a parting pet, and lifted off his wings to leave.

As he passed Riku, he felt a pull between them that nearly stopped him mid-flutter, and in an attempt to avoid looking at Riku’s eyes again, Sora’s gaze glanced across the other fairy’s wings. They were a soft, light purple, different from his creamy yellow, but traced across them was the swirling pattern of half-hearts entwined—the same pattern that graced Sora’s own wings.

They were like a matched set.

 

Sora focused on flying back toward the border, but his mind was racing, running in tight circles that were making him dizzy. Pixie Hollow had discovered that the wings of fairies born of the same laugh—siblings—lit up when they were near each other, but there’d been no light with Riku, and he was a light _fairy_. If anything, there should have been _more_ light. If they were brothers, that is. So what were they? If they weren’t brothers, how could their wings match so perfectly? And what was that _feeling?_

The shivery sensation was fading with every foot of distance between him and Riku, and by the time he reached the crossing log and looked back, he couldn’t feel it at all.

The sun was getting low in the sky, and other summer fairies visiting winter were making their way back to the border crossing, cheeks pink from being out in the cold all day.

“Sora!” one of them called with a wave. “How’d it go with the bird?”

“Did you already get your wings thawed?” another asked.

“Huh?” Sora realized the wings of the other two were still covered in the frost that kept them from getting brittle in the winter cold. Sora was hovering, wings easily fluttering, and he did a midair spin just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, or feeling things, or _not_ feeling things he _should_ be feeling.

But it was true. The frost had melted from his wings without him noticing, and he hadn’t even felt the cold. He’d been in such a hurry to get out of there that he’d completely forgotten that he’d walked the whole way to Naminé’s house.

 

The old healing fairy listened to Sora recount the day’s events, and when he finally finished, she gave him a wry smile. “So you’re saying this boy gave you _shivers?”_

“Yes!! Exactly!”

She patted his hand. “That’s perfectly normal for a boy your age, sweetheart.”

She wasn’t getting it. “But our wings _match!”_

“Wings are all different, even if they might look similar at first glance,” she said, albeit uncertainly. “Unless of course, you were born of the same laugh, but since you say neither of you lit up, it must mean you aren’t related.” The confirmation relieved Sora, even if he couldn’t articulate why.

“But we are _connected,”_ Sora pressed. "Aren't we?"

“You must be, for you to have had such a… reaction.” She chuckled and gave his hair a fond pat. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you, Sora. But it sounds to me like you two have something to discover together.”

 

That night, Sora flew to the highest branch of his favorite tree—an old knotted oak filled with burrows and nests, and turned his sights towards the Winter Woods. The sky above the peaks lit up every night around the same time with auroras, but he’d never even considered that someone _made_ them. And now that he had a face to match to the beautiful lights he loved…

The revelation had him feeling ignorant and silly—under-appreciative of the winter fairies’ contribution to the beauty of Pixie Hollow. After all, the summer light fairies wove rainbows through the sky, even when it hadn’t rained, lit the paths to help diurnal animals return to their dens and warrens, and so much more. Of _course_ there must be light fairies in winter, too. Had he insulted them by offering to bring a summer light fairy to help heal Dawn?

Right on time, an aurora burst from the peak of the mountain to draw Sora out of his worried thoughts. Color wove itself through the sky, but it wasn’t weaving _itself,_ he knew now. He was far too far to make out Riku’s shape, but if he followed the pulses, traced the patterns, he could picture where Riku must be flying—the course he was making as he soared through the cold air, tossing streaks of light across the sky that spread like paint through water.

Sora watched until his eyes began to droop, and when he closed them, he could still picture the lights dancing on the other side of his eyelids.

Naminé had been right. These were Riku’s best works yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The light healing is based on when one of my pet rats got her own foot caught and the vets were able to get it to heal by shooting it with lasers?? They literally described it as magic haha
> 
> Also please look up snow buntings they are so lovely and soft
> 
> Lastly, I'm on twitter at [toppiegames!](https://twitter.com/toppiegames)


	2. Warmth

Sora left behind an inexplicable emptiness that hadn’t been there before. “…Did you see the frost melt from his wings?” Riku asked, in a near-daze.

Naminé threw her hands over her mouth with a terrified gasp. “It did, didn’t it?” She immediately lifted off her feet. “I-I was so preoccupied with Dawn that I completely forgot about summer fairies’ wings!” She flitted towards the door. “We have to go make sure he’s all right!”

She stopped and spun to him, panic in her eyes. “Riku, let’s go!”

Riku still had his feet on the ground. The warmth that the other fairy had brought into his wings was gradually fading, like the sun dipping beneath the horizon. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew Sora was already close to the border. “I’m sure he’s almost crossed by now. And there are other fairies already near the border if he needs their help.”

Naminé bit her lip, eyes flicking between Riku and the path Sora had taken. “I’m going to go anyway. Just to make sure he crossed all right. Can you look after Dawn?”

Riku nodded, more relieved than he’d admit.  “Of course.”

Naminé gave him a thankful smile, then set off.

Riku was left alone with the bird—the last thing Sora had touched. He drifted over to Dawn, and settled into a seat beside her. Riku ran his hands across her wing, fingers unknowingly searching for any remnant of the rush through his wings.

He’d never felt anything like it. It was a warmth like the thermals of air that rose over the mountains of the Winter Woods, but it had reached _through_ him, from the inside out.

Winter fairies didn’t _get_ warm. Being warm meant something was _wrong,_ and Riku was chronically eager to assume things were _wrong,_ but this was nothing like his usual, familiar panic.

It scared him, it thrilled him, and he found himself already missing the sensation. Would it happen again, the next time they were together? Or was it a singular spark that had already burned out?

Riku stroked Dawn’s warm feathers until Naminé came back to tell him he’d been right.

 

Instead of flying straight to the healing fairy, like he knew he should, Riku darted home, brimming with feelings he couldn’t name.

As soon as he’d crossed his own threshold, he immediately began digging through the bookshelf, shifting some books and pulling others out so he could check behind them.

“Stars, Riku, where’s the fire?” came a groggy voice from his brother’s bed. A soft glow brightened their small house as their wings lit in each other’s presence. Ren had fallen asleep without even taking down his ponytail, which had been sloppily pushed to the side of his head, and if he was just waking up, he must have been watching the stars until sunrise.

“I just had an—I don’t know, an episode.” It wasn’t on the shelf. Riku moved to the desk, stacked with his brother’s star charts and jars of paint.

“Did you run out of seeds for your anxiety…?” Ren mumbled. “You should go to the healer’s instead of trying to read it away.”

“Not like that, like—” Riku thumbed through the pages, trying to see if the book he was looking for had gotten buried. “Something’s wrong with my wings.”

Ren sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Hate to break it to you, but the glowing’s because we’re related.” His wings were the same shade as Riku’s, but the pattern was different—the swirls on Ren’s wings were more reminiscent of shooting stars.

“Where’s my book?”

“Is your book really what you need right now?”

_“Yes.”_

Ren sighed and produced a well-loved picture book from underneath his own bed before handing it to Riku. It was a collection of illustrated storytales that Riku had had since he was young, and he’d thought his brother had grown out of borrowing it without asking, but that wasn’t important right now.

“A fairy came from summer to heal Dawn, and when I got near him, it was like… like my wings were _allergic.”_ Riku began thumbing through the book’s pages.

“That’s rude, Riku. Summer fairies are just like us.”

“No, not like—” Riku paused. “It was… it was _warm._ Bright. Like the way it feels when the sun comes out from behind the clouds, but from the inside. I think he felt it too.”

 _“Oh,”_ Ren retorted, with a barely concealed chuckle. He pulled his legs up, and set his pillow on top of them so he could rest his elbows. “So what’s his name?”

“Sora.” A few more turns, and Riku found it. Between two of the well-worn pages of the storybook there was a separate piece of parchment, torn from a different book and forgotten here, probably ages ago, long before this book had been passed into his hands. It bore an illustration that Riku looked at often, but had never quite understood. In the center of a wide swirling heart, two fairies with matched wings floated entwined.

“What did Naminé think of it?” Ren’s voice breached his thoughts. “Did you drop this on _her?”_

“I didn’t tell her,” Riku murmured, still staring down at the image.

“Are you going to?”

“Are _you_ going to tell her it’s really been you making her paints this whole time?” Riku countered, finally coming back to himself.

Ren’s cheeks flushed with color as his mouth set. “Don’t change the subject.”

Riku gave the picture a parting look, then shook his head. “She’s worried about Dawn. I can’t have her worrying about me, too. Not when it’s just…”

“A crush?”

The tips of Riku’s ears pricked. Was that really what this was? Had it finally happened? But…

“…When you see Naminé, what does it feel like?”

Ren flopped back down on his bead and covered his face with a pillow. “Oh my stars, I am not doing this with you.”

“It’s different, isn’t it?” Riku pressed. “You don’t feel it in your wings—you feel it in your heart.”

“How can a light fairy be such a _sap…”_ Ren’s voice was muffled by the pillow.

“You’re one to talk. Naminé doesn’t know about the sketches either, does she?”

His voice came out from under the pillow like a sluggish bear leaving its den in spring. “No…”

“She’d love them.”

“They’re not any good.”

“Everyone starts somewhere. I bet she’d even teach you if you wanted.”

Ren groaned in a way that told Riku that was _exactly_ what he wanted.

“If you didn’t stay up so late, maybe you’d be up in time to go draw with—”

“Riku, you’re still changing the subject. If you really think something weird is going on with you, go to a healing fairy. They’ll know more than me _or_ your storytales.”

 

Riku didn’t go to a healing fairy. He was such a frequent patient that he couldn’t bear the thought of being sent off with another “You’re just overreacting”, regardless of how gently the healer managed to phrase it. That, and the things he seemed to be feeling weren’t things he wanted to talk about with anyone but his brother.

At sunset, he met Ren at the mouth of the canyon that led them up to the peak where they did their work. His brother had his attention fixed on an icicle that was catching the warm sunset light.

“Do you need help?” Riku said, flying closer.

“Yeah.” Ren held out a small pot. “Hold this.”

Riku took it and held steady beneath the icicle as Ren stared at the light refracting within it. The sky was reddening as the sun drew lower, and Ren’s hands hovered around the icicle, waiting for just the right moment.

Right as red was about to tip into purple, Ren brought his hands around the icicle and wrung out its light. A red glow dripped down from between his fingers, pooling in the pot like liquid.

“That’s a nice color,” Riku appraised.

“Obviously.” Ren quickly screwed on the pot’s lid, trapping the brilliant red inside for later. “I haven’t been able to catch this one yet. You can’t find it at sunrise.” Had he stayed up looking for it?

“She’ll love it.”

“Hopefully.”

_“Definitely.”_

Ren smiled at him and put the sealed pot in his knapsack. “Enough sappy stuff. Time to get to work.”

They flew to the top of the mountain, up to the very peak, where their outpost was located. It had been hewn into the ice a long time ago, and gradually filled with everything from spyglasses to scout horns—whatever the fairies might need on the peak. In the daytime, the others used it to keep watch, manage storms, direct traffic, but at night, it was almost always just the two fo them. Their secret place.

Ren wheeled out the cart that held his star lenses and astronomical charts from the corner it was kept in during the daytime, out onto the open deck of the outpost. He spent his nights charting the night skies to navigate fairies to the mainland, or capturing the light of shooting stars—a special kind of light that could be sent to far regions of Pixie Hollow without dimming.

Riku, on the other hand, wasn’t so important. Auroras didn’t have a purpose, a meaning. They were just the only thing he was good at.

He helped Ren set up his equipment, and then turned to the waiting sky.

Riku closed his eyes. The light from auroras didn’t come from nowhere—it laid hidden within the night sky, folded inside the darkness. Before he could pull it out, he had to find it. He flew forward and swept his hands along the night sky as if it were a curtain, his special gloves brushing along the invisible veil of night.

Something caught.

Riku opened his eyes to see the light vein he’d revealed, and smiled to himself as he brought both hands to part it. The light burst from the opening, and Riku had to act fast. He shot up, wings beating against the freezing air, and used the jetstream to splash the colored light across the sky. He circled back, and flew through it again, drawing it behind him. Once he’d directed its course, it bloomed like bright paint in dark water, spreading to the far reaches of the sky.

Before the first light could fade, Riku stopped to find another vein, and repeated the process again and again. He felt lighter tonight—inspired. The image of the storytale illustration wouldn’t stop dancing in his mind—two fairies, different and the same, holding each other as if, together, they fit to make a perfect piece. He still didn’t know what that picture meant—who had drawn it, or why—but he thought something in his chest was beginning to understand.

Last night, he’d been restless, shooting back and forth across the sky—as if it could rid him of the anxiety that lived in his chest like a hibernating animal who couldn’t find sleep. Now, he wondered if it had been a premonition.

Sora.

If he’d felt the same thing—that rush through his wings—and if Ren—the person who knew Riku better than anyone—had called it a crush, then…

He was getting ahead of himself. He couldn’t be sure yet. They’d only just met—they hadn’t even touched. Maybe he had it all wrong—maybe he _was_ coming down with something, and maybe he’d only imagined the questioning look Sora had given him—the one that had said, “Did you feel that too?”

Maybe he hadn’t.

Riku had read all kinds of love stories—his storybook was filled with them—and he thought he’d understood what it was like, but maybe he hadn’t even been close. Maybe it was something too big to contain, too all-consuming to fit between such thin pages.

Maybe.

 

He didn’t put it into words, or even letters, but that night, he painted Sora’s name across the sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh sweetheart you have it bad
> 
>  
> 
> I made a [playlist for this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1YTMl1ziizGhgyNpbzYd3l), and I also sketched [Naminé's design!](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1144074961260204032)
> 
> Now that the stage is set I think the chapters will be longer from here on out! Thanks for all the love so far, everyone!!


	3. Touch

Riku hardly slept that night, and when morning came, he found himself hovering near the border, staring down at the tinker shipments and ice shavings making their way back and forth across the border bridge. He told himself he wasn’t waiting for anything, anyone, in particular, but rather that he’d never been up early enough to watch the morning shipments make the crossing.

Then the warmth bloomed through his wings, like a freshwater river meeting a frozen lake.

He saw Sora.

The other fairy flinched as a shiver ran through him, and sent his eyes searching. They locked on Riku, and the two of them stared at each other, frozen, as if they were both standing on thin ice that any false move would crack.

Other summer fairies brushed past Sora on the bridge, making their way to the frosting station that kept their warm wings from getting brittle in the winter air.

Sora looked at the station, then up at Riku. He wasn’t going to…

He was.

Sora flew right up to him, a little crookedly as the pulsing shivers ran through his wings. Once he’d rebalanced his flutter, Sora flashed Riku a smile brighter than the sun. “The line's kind of long…”

Riku's eyes flicked down. It wasn't. Had Sora not seen it? He looked back.

“And we don't want to keep Dawn waiting, right?”

Riku just stared at him, and the other fairy turned to draw a hand through his perfectly messy hair. "Do you think you could… My wings?"

Riku’s thoughts were moving too fast, and the sensation in his wings was making it impossible to slow them down. Their proximity was bringing the warmth all the way to his cheeks, like it had yesterday, and he was suddenly overly aware of his breathing, how it was too fast, too short.

He realized Sora was waiting for an answer. Riku ran a hand up his arm and gave himself a subtle pinch—a grounding touch he was all too familiar with.

“Right—sure,” Riku said, miraculously.

They lowered themselves to a patch of snow in the middle of some trees—Riku didn't want to get an earful about breaking protocol, which he couldn't believe he'd still managed to consider when his heart was beating this fast.

They said nothing. Sora stood still with his back facing Riku, wings at attention. Did he really trust him to do this? Riku’s fingers pricked with nerves. This was too foreign, too intimate. What was he thinking, saying yes to this?

“…Did you already do it?” Sora asked, puzzled.

“N-No,” Riku blurted. “Just keep still.” He had to pull it together, or they’d be standing here until Sora’s wings cracked.

Riku took off his gloves, and summoned the cold that all winter fairies held inside themselves. Little sparks of frost lit the air—Riku couldn't summon very much—and as he brought a hand near Sora’s wing, the other fairy let out a gasp.

“Are you okay?” Riku stopped.

Sora gave a sheepish shrug, and tossed Riku a reassuring backwards glance. “Yeah—yeah, it’s fine.”

Riku had to take a long moment to recover the courage it took to hold his hands so close to Sora’s wings. How did frost fairies do this all day?

Carefully, he passed his hands up and down Sora's wings, summoning frost to coat them and thanking the stars it didn't actually involve touching them. Sora let out a chirp of surprise at the cold, but remained still. Riku was about halfway down Sora’s left wing when suddenly, the ice crystals sloughed off.

Riku didn’t mask his noise of dismay, and Sora turned his head again. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just give me a second.”

He was a light fairy, but he _should_ be able to do at least this much. All winter fairies could summon enough frost to coat a couple wings. Riku tried again. Then again, but Sora’s wings kept _melting_ the frost he summoned.

“What’s the matter? Can I turn?”

“You’re _melting the frost.”_ He immediately regretted the frustration in his voice.

“Ah! Is that bad?”

“I don’t know,” Riku snapped.

“What should we do?” Now he was worrying Sora. This was all going wrong.

“I don’t know!” He couldn’t think straight anymore—not with his powers coming up short, and not with Sora standing so close. His wings were clearly overheating his brain.

Sora turned around, picking up on his resignation. His eyes flicked to Riku’s face, then away again, like he didn’t want to make full eye contact. The other fairy’s eyes were the most lovely shade of blue, like a layer of ice buried deep in the snow.

“Well, I… I guess it’s cold, but it’s not… _that_ cold.” Sora cleared his throat, then quietly added, “Not right now. I should be okay without the frost.”

“What are you _talking_ about? You’re a summer fairy in winter.” Was he sick? Was he already getting frostbite without realizing it? That could happen, right?

Sora’s wings fluttered nervously. “I mean… I think I’ll be okay if I’m with you.”

“What do I have to do with anything?”

Sora looked at him—directly, this time. Riku wanted to look away, but Sora’s eyes were impossible to ignore. “The frost fell off my wings yesterday, too. When I was near you.”

Riku stiffened like an iceberg. That had happened because of him?

“You’ve… been feeling it too, right?” Sora tried. “Our wings…?”

He’d felt it too. _He’d felt it too._ Riku’s heart started thudding like heavy snow being knocked from a tree branch.

Sora searched his face for an answer, but Riku’s slack jaw was unresponsive, running on a delay like always. The moment was gone before he could catch it—Sora’s eyes broke away again, and he let out a nervous laugh, like he’d been joking. “Nothing—never mind.”

Sora drew a hand through his hair and gave another grin, though this one was lacking something it had had before. Riku didn’t like that. “We’re burning daylight—Dawn’s waiting for us, isn’t she?”

“I do feel it,” Riku said, surprising them both.

Sora stared at him a moment, but thankfully he was quick to recover. “Do you know what it is?” he asked, voice twinged with wonder.

Riku had theories—oh, so many theories—but hardly any he would openly say out loud, even to Ren. “…No.”

Sora let out a small puff of a sigh. “I came up short on my end too. The healing fairy thought I just—” Sora paused. “—thought I was just joking.”

Stars, Sora had _told_ people about this? This… this thing between them that felt all at once intimate and secret? Riku could feel color rising to his cheeks and then up to the tips of his pointed ears.

Embarrassingly, Sora noticed immediately, even if he misunderstood why Riku’s face had flushed. “Ah!! But I don’t think it’s anything to worry about! If the healing fairy didn’t know about it, then it’s not a disease, or anything contagious!”

Sora collected himself and folded his arms, hmming thoughtfully to himself. “It’s just that _something’s_ causing our wings to respond to each other. And whatever it is, it’s sending this chill through my wings—”

Riku couldn’t believe he’d let himself get so distracted. “Your wings!” Riku spun and darted through an opening in the trees, returning seconds later with a leaf that he shoved to Sora. “Put this on.”

Sora blinked. Riku held it closer.

“Riku, I don’t think I need it. My wings are—”

 _“Put it on.”_ Riku wasn’t going to be responsible for ruining Sora’s perfect wings, even if Sora was a healing fairy who should be well aware that broken wings couldn’t be _fixed_ —not unless you had a sibling, like Riku did.

Sora finally conceded, folding his wings down so the leaf would fit over them like a shawl. “All right, let’s go find Dawn.”

 

* ✦ ˚ * ✺ ✫ * 　　 ⊹ 　 　 ✹ · . · 　　 　　 ⋆ · 　 . 　 * 　 　　　 ✵ ·

 

Sora could have flown with Riku to Naminé’s house—he knew he could have—but Riku had insisted on wrapping a leaf around his wings and walking the entire way with him. It surprised Sora, a little, especially since Riku had seemed mad at him when they’d met up today. Asking him to frost his wings had definitely been too forward. Whatever this was—whatever might be budding between them—he would have to take it slower than that.

Naminé’s house was beautifully rendered in frosted ice with glossy windows and whorls of delicate flowers and vines made of ice. Sora had been so intent on making it inside to help Dawn that he hadn’t taken the proper time to admire it yesterday. He could tell Naminé had a real talent for rendering her ideas into reality.

“Are you okay?” Riku had been asking him questions like that the whole walk over, like he was afraid a stiff winter breeze would send Sora toppling into the snow.

“Oh!! Yeah, I was just admiring Naminé’s work.”

Riku took his own moment to look at it. “She’s one of a kind,” he agreed.

Riku was such a hard fairy to read. He could be cold, frustrated, and then… there were moments like this, when his expression would shift, drift like a leaf on the water into something tender and beautiful. It was in those flashes that Sora could glimpse the light fairy who made the night sky come alive.

“Sora! Thank you so much for coming!” Naminé called out. “And Riku! I thought I wouldn’t be able to find you!”

The two of them jumped at the same time, both having been lost in their private thoughts, but Sora was the first to respond. “Naminé!” He gave her a friendly wave and burst forward toward her threshold. “How’s my patient today?”

“Ah—!” Riku gasped as he caught the twirling leaf Sora had just thoughtlessly cast off.

“She’s doing better, but…” Naminé bit her lip. “Sora, are _you_ all right? Yesterday you flew home without frost on your wings, and now...”

Sora took a moment to regard the wings at his back, unfurled and flittering in the cold air.

“Are… are they okay like that?” Naminé finished, worry threaded through her voice.

By now, the thrumming and shivering that had happened yesterday and earlier today had settled into a comfortable chill that sat quietly across Sora’s wings like cool water. He couldn’t feel any stiffness, or any discomfort. By all accounts, he was completely fine. And he could practically _feel_ Riku beside him, so Sora was… maybe he was better than fine. He stole a glance at Riku, taking in the way his hair sparkled like snow in the light. His light eyebrows were furrowed, marring their graceful arch.

“We don’t know,” Riku answered for him, wrapping the leaf back around Sora’s shoulders. “Our wings are… acting strangely.”

 _“Our?”_ Naminé repeated as Riku winced at his slip up. “What’s wrong with your wings, Riku?” This was obviously news to her.

Riku looked like he could have sank into a nearby snowdrift. “They’re…” Unlike with Sora, he didn’t seem capable of avoiding Naminé’s questions. “They feel warm.”

“That doesn’t sound good, Riku!” Naminé brought her hands to Riku’s gloves with a familiar fondness that made Sora wonder if she was the reason Riku had been so stiff with him. He remembered how lovingly she’d talked about him yesterday. Maybe they were…

“You should head straight to the healing fairy—both of you!” Naminé went on.

“It’s not—” Riku began, then sighed before trying again. “It only happens when I’m near Sora. When… we’re near each other.”

Sora’s wings made an involuntary flitter in time with the butterflies in his stomach. He found his eyes drifting to Naminé to gauge her reaction.

Naminé’s face switched from worry, to confusion, to a crooked almost-smile that Sora couldn’t read. “It… what?”

“Let’s talk about this inside!” Sora chimed, eager to get out of the open and onto the task he’d actually come here for. “We’ve kept Dawn waiting long enough!”

Sora hadn’t intended it, but silence settled between them as they gathered around to tend Dawn. Naminé and Riku knelt on either side of him as he removed her bandages—Naminé soothing Dawn while Riku handed Sora things from his kit. Their hands kept almost brushing, but Riku seemed intent on not allowing them to touch, even though he’d taken his gloves off to keep his hands from getting dirty.

Sora diverted all of his focus to Dawn, willing himself entirely into animal-healing-fairy mode so he’d stop thinking about the chiseled look of Riku’s hands outside of his gloves, and all of the perfect muscles that made up his arms.

Once Dawn’s wound was properly cleaned and prepped, it was time to make use of the light fairy beside him. “The wound needs a concentrated beam of light, at a wavelength similar to moonlight,” Sora explained.

Riku nodded, and stood. He turned his back to Sora, and began to pull on the gloves he’d pocketed.

“What are you—” Sora began.

“Moonlight sometimes gets trapped in ice. I bet I can find some.”

“I’ll never understand how you can even tell the difference,” Naminé teased from Sora’s other side.

Sora could do nothing but stare as Riku stepped over to examine a sconce, then a bit of ice carving that ran along the home’s threshold. His hands hovered over the ice, like he was choosing a book on a keeper’s shelf. Eventually, he stopped before an icy rose, and with his delicate gloves, he reached through its intricate refractions of light, and plucked out a small spark of light as easily as a pearl from an oyster.

He was incredible.

Wordlessly, he returned to Sora’s side and held out the small shred of moonlight in a silent query of what he was supposed to do next.

Sora had to take several beats to hurriedly recover his professionalism. “N-Now shine it on her wound, in a concentrated beam.”

Riku did, but it wasn’t making it to the precise spot Sora wanted.

“Direct it over here a little more.”

“Like this?”

“No, more to the left.”

“This?”

“No, like—” Thoughtlessly, Sora grabbed Riku’s wrist to guide it properly, but he’d touched just above the glove, and as skin met skin, everything went white.

 

*✷ . 　✷ 　 · 　 + ✷ 　 　　 　 　　 　 　 ⊹ · 　　　　　✷ 　　 　 . 　　 . 　 · 　　　　　　 　 　✷ 　 * ✧.

 

Riku thought he’d been knocked unconscious, but as he blinked, the room around him came slowly back into focus. Sora was beside him, brilliant wings somehow more vibrant as Riku’s own surged at his back like they’d been struck with lightning. _Had_ they been struck by lightning? Had a storm somehow made it all the way into the Winter Woods? Riku checked for a hole in the ceiling, reeling as the sudden movement sent a dizzying wave through his skull.

“What… what was…” he breathed.

Sora was keeled forward on his hand and knees, one hand on his head as if to stop the spinning. “That was—wow. _Wow.”_

Naminé was scrambling up from where she must have tumbled down, wings helping her regain balance. “Dawn! Is she okay?”

They all turned to the snow bunting in tandem, who, aside from giving them a series of dazed blinks, didn’t seem otherwise affected.

Sora was the first to see it. His eyes widened as he slowly raised his remaining hand to his head to rest his hands disbelievingly at his temples.

Riku moved to get a better look, and Naminé followed his gaze.

She gasped, and let loose the words they were all thinking.

“Her wound’s gone.”

 

Sora gave Dawn a full exam—tested her leg for mobility and soreness with expert hands—but she seemed just as surprised as them to have full use of her leg again, the skin unmarred by even a scar, and kept tilting her head to give them renewed puzzled looks.

“How is this possible?” Naminé asked quietly.

“It happened because we touched,” Sora murmured, almost to himself. “It would’ve taken weeks to heal, but it’s just… gone.” He turned to Riku, something like reverence in his eyes, and as their gazes locked, Riku felt a little like he was at risk of exploding.

“We…” Riku couldn’t find more words than that. This is why he was a painter—not a writer, or a public speaker, or even a tradesman. This was why he spent most of his time around the same two people, and a bird.

A soft sound came from nearby, and he thought it had come from Dawn until he saw the tears welling in Naminé’s eyes, and by then it was too late. She’d already seen the way he was looking at Sora.

Naminé rose, and Dawn instinctively made to follow her. “I’m going to... to test her foot.” Riku could hear the tremor stirring in her voice, but there was nothing he could do—not now. She flitted out of the house, and Dawn squeezed herself out of the threshold to give chase.

Slowly, Riku lowered the hand he didn’t realize he’d outstretched.

“You can go after her,” came Sora’s gentle voice from behind him. “It’s okay.”

Riku looked back at him, confused.

“I didn’t mean to come between you. Whatever just happened—it doesn’t have to happen again.”

Sora’s words sent a fissure through the ground Riku was standing on, because a new light singing in his chest told him that he _wanted_ that to happen again, every day maybe, for as long as he lived.

“It’s not like that,” Riku said, so quietly he wasn’t sure if it had been loud enough for Sora to hear.

“It’s not?” Sora said, almost as softly. Riku didn’t miss the flicker of hope he heard inside those two words, and it gave him strength enough for the truth.

“She thinks I’m someone I’m not, and I don’t…” This was only the second time he’d confided in someone else about this. “I don’t think I can love her back. Not like that.” It had been like a premonition, the moment Ren had laid eyes on her and asked Riku if he knew her name. Even if Riku had been interested in girls, it would never have been her, because in his mind it was always _them_ —his brother and Naminé—even when they hadn’t known it yet.

“Then… she deserves to know that too,” Sora said, and Riku knew he was right.

The other fairy packed his things, and as he let his touch brush across Riku’s gloved hand, it felt like a promise.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Riku.”

Sora left, a shy but sad smile playing on his lips. This should have been a victory, and in his storytales it would have been, but Riku’s book would be missing a page until he’d set things right.

 

He found her where he knew he’d find her—in the tree she sat in to sketch Dawn. The snow bunting snuggled beside her, and gave Riku a warning coo as she saw him approaching. Naminé quickly wiped her face.

“Hey,” Riku said softly.

“Hey,” she returned, throat wet from crying.

“I didn’t mean… I didn’t think you thought…” Riku tried.

Naminé adjusted her hair, but when she dropped her hand, there was more of it covering her face instead of less.

“I thought… um… I thought you’d been courting me.” It was just like Naminé to use a word like “courting”. She sniffed, and wiped her face with a scrap of embroidered cloth—a lost thing that Ren had found and given to her, with Riku acting as proxy like always.

Riku settled down beside her as Dawn eyed him suspiciously. Naminé deserved the truth. She always had.

“Naminé, all that…” His brother was going to kill him. “…That hasn’t been me.”

Through a gap in her hair, Riku caught a lost and searching blue eye. Riku kept his gaze on her, so she would know he was serious.

“Your nice paints, the little gifts… None of it’s been from me. It’s all stuff Ren’s done, for you. But he’s been too shy to tell you it was him.”

He watched her eyes slowly rise, like the sun peeking over the mountains. “He…” She sniffed again, and brushed her hair properly out of her face. “Ren did all that?”

Riku nodded. “Yeah, and he’s going to clip my wings when he finds out I told you.”

She considered it quietly, and Riku imagined her reorganizing her sketches, putting them into proper order and sequence. Replacing images of Riku with ones of his brother. “I hardly ever see him… I didn’t know.”

“He doesn’t make it easy.”

Naminé was silent a while longer, until she finally let out a soft breath. “I suppose it figures that he’s just as much of a romantic as you are.”

“Oh, big time.” Riku’s smirk faded. “…I’m sorry, Naminé. I should have told you sooner. We both should have.”

Naminé let her wings raise her back to her feet to stand straighter than she had before. “…You’re a good brother, Riku.” She looked back at him. “And a good friend.”

Riku rose beside her, and he couldn’t help it—relief washed over him. The two of them would be all right.

Naminé gave him a knowing smile. “And Sora… he’s cute.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> use your words riku
> 
> Thank you guys for all the love!! This is really fun to write and I'm glad people are enjoying it!
> 
> I'm gonna use [tiny_star_field](https://twitter.com/tiny_star_field)'s tweets for the pov shifts because cute
> 
> Check [this twitter thread](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1142178711229423624) for updates and art!


	4. Selfish

“Roxas!!”

Sora flung the bakery door open to see the other fairy fumble the sugar pot he was holding, only to nimbly catch it before it could spill a single grain.

“Soraaa,” Roxas groaned, though he had to be used to this by now.

“The thing with Riku! I figured it out!!”

“Figured out how to get him to fall in love with you?” Roxas grinned, returning his attention to the recipe he was making. With his eyes down, he couldn’t see Sora’s wings flutter as his face turned pink, though, with as well as they knew each other, he could probably picture it well enough.

When Sora didn’t say anything, Roxas asked, “So you got him to frost your wings?” It had been Roxas’ idea. Compared to what had happened later, Sora had almost forgotten. But now he recalled it—Riku’s hands so close he thought he might shatter, in the best way possible.

Roxas was _brilliant._

“I asked him.”

“And?” Roxas raised an eyebrow at him.

“It didn’t work.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roxas frowned, then, more quietly, “No one saw you, did they?”

“Not that—I mean, we _tried,_ but it… didn’t work,” Sora said, lowering his voice too.

“What didn’t work?” Lea leaned out of the kitchen, new charcoal-like smudges all over his face. He’d invited Roxas to come bake with him after Roxas left the scout fairies, but while Roxas had discovered a gift for the chemistry that went into baking and confectionary, Lea’s favorite ingredient still seemed to be _fire._

“Isn’t it always supposed to work?” Roxas continued, ignoring Lea as he came to stand next to them. “Xion’s frosted our wings a bunch of times and Lea was actively on _fire_ for one of them.”

“Was not!!” Riled, Lea combed Roxas’ spikes the opposite way. “I put it out first!”

Roxas combed his hair right back into place and kicked Lea in the shin, but there wasn’t any force behind it. “Then you were at least still smoking. No matter how warm you were, it didn’t stop her.”

Sora frowned. “Riku couldn’t get it to work.”

“So what’d you do?”

Sora shrugged. “Dawn was waiting, so…”

“So you just _went_ to Naminé’s? Without telling Xion or _anyone?”_

Xion was a cooking fairy in Winter—well, whatever the equivalent of cooking was in a place where you couldn’t use fire—and she was the third piece of their triad. The three of them met at the border around twilight to eat their favorite sweets together. In fact…

“…Can I make something for Riku?” They didn’t have ovens in winter, and had to get all their cooked and baked food imported. Riku probably hadn’t tried a lot of things.

“What?” Roxas shook his head like he’d been hit with rainwater. “No Sora, _first_ we back up to the fact that you spent a whole day in _Winter_ without your wings frosted!”

“Sora spent a whole day in Winter without getting his wings frosted?!” Lea blurted, like he hadn’t been listening at all.

“Shh..!” Sora hissed before whispering, “Yes, okay? And nothing happened. I mean, not to my wings, but…” The blinding light of their touch was still singing behind his eyes, hours later. Dawn’s leg miraculously healed, and… Naminé. Was she okay? Riku would make sure—he knew he would.

“Well c’mon, don’t leave us hanging!” Lea prompted as Sora realized the two of them were focused on him with rapt attention. Sora’s eyes drifted down to his open hand.

“We were working on healing Dawn—Riku can catch _moonlight_ —and he wasn’t directing it correctly, so I touched his wrist, and then—” Sora spread his fingers to illustrate the flash.

Lea just squinted at him. “…Were you always this bad at telling stories?”

“No,” Roxas said, arms folded. “But then again, he’s never been _this_ smitten.”

Sora had no proper rebuttal for that, so he went with another “shh!” before he continued. “I mean it was like… This huge _flash_ between us, a charge sent between our wings, and when it went out, Dawn was healed. _Completely._ Like the wound had never been there. No scar tissue— _nothing.”_ He looked back to Roxas and Lea almost pleadingly. “All because we _touched_ each other.”

Silence descended on the bakery for a few long moments. They had no reason to doubt him—they had to know he wouldn’t joke about healing an animal. Lea’s mouth was slightly open, but Roxas was the first to speak. “What are you going to do?”

Sora pushed out a breath and brushed a hand through his hair. “I… What am I supposed to do? I mean, I have a duty to the animals of Pixie Hollow, right? And if we can heal every single one, then we should, shouldn’t we?”

“It sounds like this is all leading up to a ‘but’.” Lea frowned.

“But… what if that’s not what Riku wants? What if…” What if that wasn’t what _he_ wanted? What if he wanted to… keep this, for the two of them? They had no idea what this was, how it worked—there was no way to know if it could be used up and _spent._ And if it ever was, would all this be over?

Sora’s heart clenched with another alternative. Had his new feelings made him selfish?

“Setting that aside,” Roxas said, “Whatever happened has obviously never happened _before_. So what does it mean?”

Sora’s eyes drifted to the window, out to wherever Riku must be, right now. He thought of his snowfall hair and his aurora eyes. He thought of words like _symbiotic._ “I think… I think it means we’re made for each other.” Was it selfish to believe that too?

Roxas looked at him long and hard, then said, “I hope so.” There was something behind it, though, that spoke to the stories fairies told about star-crossed lovers who never got what they wanted. _A summer fairy and a winter fairy, bound to be forever apart._

“Waitwait, I don’t get it. If you and Riku’s wings are all, magic and special and whatever, where does Vanitas fit into all that?” Lea asked, letting out a sharp sound a moment later as Roxas elbowed him in the ribs.

“Lea,” Roxas hissed. “Now is not the time to bring up his _brother.”_

Sora’s eyes fell to the floor, heavy with the weight of an old conversation, as _selfish_ became the only word his mind seemed to know. “He’s not my brother.”

“We don’t know that,” Roxas said, like he always did. He thought he understood, because he had Ven, but he didn’t.

“A brother wouldn't do what I did to him.”

“Sora, you didn't _do_ anything to him. He's just like that, and he'd tell you the same.”

He hadn’t thought about Vanitas at all, since he’d met Riku. It’d been like a vacation from his baggage, but it came back now to weigh him down, heavier than before, as an awful, familiar guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. How could he have forgotten about Vanitas?

“…Have you told him yet?” Roxas asked quietly. “About your wings?”

Sora’s eyes went hot, warning of coming tears. “Why would I do that?”

“Sora, you need to stop avoiding him. Ven says he's been... I don't know, whatever counts as somber for him.”

“He's always like that.”

“He misses you, Sora. I know he does.”

“How can he miss me if we never talk to each other?”

Roxas gave him a look, and Sora turned away.

“It’ll… It’ll just hurt him more. What am I supposed to say?”

Roxas sighed. Lea was keeping his lips pursed together, like he’d been banned from saying anything more.

“What do we even have in common?”

“Besides the obvious? You both love animals. Start by asking him... how his birds are doing, or something. Ven tries that whenever he wants to make headway with him.” Roxas pulled a tray of small pies from a shelf. “Look, we have a delivery to make to the scouts, why don’t you take it?”

Sora fixed his gaze on a spot on the floor.

“Just talk to him, all right?” Roxas deftly wrapped the pies in leaves and packed them into a small basket.

Sora didn’t want to go. He’d rather spend all day sewing sutures until his hands cramped. But he knew Roxas was right, because he always was.

Lea spoke up, figuring this one was safe. “How about this: once you’re done, you can have free reign of the whole kitchen—even the new ice box the tinkers made us.”

Roxas nodded. “We’ll help you make something for Riku.”

It was a generous offer. Sora knew how much they treasured the ice they imported from Winter—it was just as important as the sea salt they got from the water fairies in the bay.

Roxas handed him the basket. “It’ll be okay.”

 

With heavy wings, Sora flew to the scout fairy outpost. It had been built at the top of the tallest tree in Pixie Hollow—the perfect vantage point for incoming storms or other dangers. He’d hardly made it halfway up the tree’s height before Ven flitted to greet him, acorn shell helmet hiding the same golden hair as Roxas.

“Sora! Didn't expect to see you here!” Ven chimed before spotting the basket. “Roxas suckered you into being our delivery boy, huh?”

Sora passed the basket to him. “Actually, I… came to talk to Vanitas.”

“Oh!” Ven tried to mask his utter surprise. “Oh! I think that’ll be great. He’s…” Ven frowned. “I dunno, off. I think he misses you.”

“Roxas told me.”

“Yeah?” Ven said as the two of them began to ascend the tree. Ven was a fast flyer, and had trouble keeping back with Sora’s pace. “He’s up in the crow’s nest, like usual.” Ven handed Sora one of the wrapped pies. “Make sure he eats this. He always ignores me, and I swear his shoulder blades are starting to look like they could cut something.”

Sora snatched the bundle from Ven and shot up towards the top of the tree.

“Wait—” Ven called, startled. “Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”

Sora kept flying. “He always knows when I’m coming.”

Fairies were born from a child's first laugh, as that first spark of joy. Their spark would travel far—all the way from the mainland to be brought to life in Pixie Hollow, bathed in the light of the Pixie Dust Tree. But the journey was not always easy. Sometimes, the spark would be split, broken into two pieces that would each manifest as fairies of their own—like Roxas and Ven. They became brothers, sisters, siblings. Separate wholes still bonded by laughter and love.

He and Vanitas were a different story. Their sparks had… collided. Crashed into each other. At least, that was what Sora had always thought. How Vanitas had ended up with his face, how he'd been changed in a way Sora could never fix.

Vanitas had his back to him, like always. Or maybe that was just what Sora's mind chose to remember most, because Vanitas' back was empty.

He had been born without wings.

_“Sora._ To what do I owe the pleasure?” It didn't sound like a pleasure at all.

Sora couldn’t find his words. He always lost them up here with Vanitas, where the wind blew strong enough to whip everything away.

Vanitas turned, surveying him with golden-yellow eyes as hungry as the hawks he trained.

Sora held out the pie, and jumped as Vanitas snatched it from him.

“You’ve made your delivery. Are we done here?”

Sora looked off the side of the small outpost, only to immediately be hit with vertigo. If Vanitas was his brother, then how could he stand to be so high every day? Without wings, no less?

As Vanitas folded his arms and followed his gaze, looking out at the horizon, Sora’s eyes flicked to his bare back. The leaves of his shirt had been cut to reveal it, like he wanted to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t hiding any scraps or stumps—that they had never been there in the first place.

“What happened?”

“W-What?” Sora was pulled out of his thoughts.

“You wouldn’t have come unless something happened.”

Sora didn’t deny it. “I met someone.”

Something quirked at the edge of his lips, like it amused him.“…Sora, you don’t need my blessing for a date,” Vanitas said.

“This is different,” Sora went on, though he felt his voice dipping quieter and quieter, as if he could hide the words that came next beneath the wind. “Our wings match.”

Vanitas’ eyes widened til Sora could see the whites, then they were gone again, like the moon slipping back behind the clouds as he turned to glare at the horizon.

“…Who is he?” Even now, Vanitas could read him too well.

“A winter fairy. I met him the other day.” Sora tried to look away again, but it wasn’t worth the dizziness. “Our wings don’t light up—but they…”

“They’re made for each other.”

He’d done it again—read Sora like a book. Sora searched Vanitas for something he could read, something he could understand, but he’d never been able to do it, and it was looking like today would be no different. He couldn’t even figure out what Vanitas was about to ask, even though it was surely being written across the empty page of his back.

“…Is there someone like me over there?” Ven might have been able to hear if there was any thread of hope twined in those words, but Sora couldn’t.

“…I don’t know,” he admitted. Not every rumor from Winter reached Summer, but everyone in Summer knew about Vanitas.

“Then why did you tell me?” Vanitas’ voice pricked like a finger on a rosebush.

“I don’t know, I guess… I guess I thought you should hear it from me.” Sora was always the one to hurt him. He didn’t want to put it on anyone else.

Vanitas remained impenetrable, arms folded and book closed, and Sora knew they were done here.

He turned, and gave himself back to the wind.

When the two of them arrived in Pixie Hollow, they'd said Sora's spark shone like a star, while Vanitas' was left flickering like a dying flame. He must have taken something from him. What he had with Riku—maybe it was supposed to be Vanitas’, and Sora was too selfish to give it up.

 

✧　　　 　 · 　 　　　 · ˚ · 　　　　 * · 　 · · 　　　 · + * · 　 · 　　　　 　 　　 · 　 　 　　*

 

“That was pretty brief. Did Sora get sick?” Ventus came almost as soon as Sora left, nosy as always.

“No.” That wasn't why Sora had left, even though it sometimes was. Vanitas had fought his own vertigo into submission a long time ago, carved it into something sharp. Sora had never needed to do the same.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Sora found someone. Someone in winter who matches his wings.”

Ventus picked up the pie Vanitas had left on the table where they kept their charts weighed down. “I see.”

“But he said there’s no one like me over there.”

Ventus almost groaned. “That’s because you’re one of a kind, Van—you know that.” Vanitas never needed to defend himself, because Ventus was always there to do it for him. “And besides… what about here?”

“What?"

“What if there’s someone already here?” Ventus was looking right at him, and Vanitas couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down to make sure none of the other scouts were nearby.

“It’s not that easy,” Vanitas said, so softly the wind almost took it.

“It could be,” Ventus said, pressing the still-wrapped pie into his hand. “Once you decide to let it.”

Ventus vaulted back over the side of the crow’s nest, a spark of gold in his wings catching the light, and as Vanitas’ fingers closed around the pie, it was still warm.

 

˚ . ✵ ✵ 　 　　　　　　 ˚ 　 * 　　 ˚ 　 ·　 　　 ⊹ ⋆ . · ⋆ ✵ · · 　✷ ·　　　　 ✺ ·

 

Sora didn’t go back to the bakery. Instead, he told himself that Riku deserved something fresh made in the morning, and while that was true, Sora couldn’t take them up on their offer today. Too many of his patients were overdue for a visit.

He found Kairi and Olette sitting outside the bumblebee barn, holding down a rather stubborn bee as they tried to brush it. A couple days ago, Kairi’s bumblebees had gotten into some lavender oil, and on top of getting it _everywhere,_ they needed several rounds of cleaning before their fur could hold pollen properly again.

“Sora, hi!” Kairi called as she managed to pin down the bee’s thorax. Olette took the opening to go in with the brush. Judging by the fact that Kairi’s pink petal dress was practically brown, they’d been at it a while.

“Sorry for taking so long,” Sora said apologetically.

“It’s okay—it’s only allergies!” Kairi said. “She’s grumpy because we’re keeping her inside, but it’s not like it’s an emergency! I know how busy you can get.” One of the other bees had had an allergic reaction to the lavender oil, and Sora had been checking in on her. At least, he had until he’d started shirking.

“We actually got the rest of it off her yesterday—now she’s just got the sniffles or something,” Olette said. “Hey, how is Naminé’s bird?”

“Fine—is that a new brush?” Sora deflected.

Olette held it up proudly. Tinkers were always more than happy to talk about the things they’d made. “Sure is! I baked some daisy filaments to get the bristles extra stiff, then set them in a custom-carved wooden handle!”

Kairi smiled warmly. “She made it in just a couple hours, too—right in our time of need!”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my favorite garden fairy!” Olette laughed. The bumblebee they’d been wrestling took their lapse in attention as its chance to escape.

“Ah…!”

“I guess that was enough for today, huh?”

They’d both been working so hard, and what had he been doing? Making eyes at Riku?

“Here Sora, we’ll show you into the barn.”

Sora gave the bee her checkup and a refill of medicated nectar. Kairi and Olette were right—she was doing okay. She’d be back to normal in a few days, with or without magic wings.

“You okay, Sora?” Kairi asked once he’d begun to pack up his things. “You seem kinda… unenthused. Have you been working too hard?”

“Not hard enough…” Sora murmured.

Kairi dipped down to crouch next to him. “Hey. It’s okay to take some time for yourself.”

Sora shook his head. “I can’t—not right now.”

“Sora, everyone knows how much you care about the animals in Pixie Hollow,” Olette said. “So it’s okay to care about yourself, too!”

Kairi nodded. “Next week, Olette and I are spending a whole day at the beach—just the two of us!” She put her hand on Sora’s. “I love what I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to do it every day.”

Making flowers bloom and herding bumblebees was different than being the one she called when one got hurt. “I can’t just leave all my patients.”

“There are plenty of animal fairies ready to pick up the slack!” Olette assured him. “Stars know you make their jobs easy.”

Sora was quiet, unconvinced.

“Say you need a break,” Kairi said, gentle as a blossom. “You’ve helped everyone in Pixie Hollow at least once—I doubt there’s a fairy alive who thinks you don’t deserve some time to yourself.”

“That’s right.” Olette put her hand on Kairi’s shoulder, and Kairi laced her fingers between Olette’s.

Kairi gave Sora a wink. “It’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I have anything to say about this chapter other than lesbians fix everything
> 
> Character designs for the rest of the cast are [here](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1166913165977739266)
> 
> And I sketched a couple scenes [here!](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1168022404741783555)
> 
>  
> 
> Updates and art are in [this twitter thread!](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1142178711229423624)


	5. Tastes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you subscribed to this: **I've retroactively changed Repliku’s name to Ren!** I never know what to do with his name but I think I like this one better

After Riku and Naminé had parted, he’d told Ren. News could travel as fast as they could fly, and he didn’t want Ren hearing he’d upset Naminé without knowing _why._

Granted, he shouldn’t have led with the fact that he’d _upset Naminé,_ because that had made things messier than they needed to be, but once he’d gotten through Ren’s incoming tears and explained himself, Ren had just said he was sorry.

“I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he went on quietly. “I knew you didn’t like her, not like I did, and that just made it easier to…”

“It’s okay.”

“It actually isn’t,” he snapped. “You’ve gotta stop saying that when it’s not true.”

Riku's eyes fell on Ren’s latest drawing, still out on their table. It was a bird, though Ren’s skill level made it difficult to tell what kind it was. Ren saw him eyeing it, and flitted over to flip it face-down.

Riku looked away from the paper, and spotted the storytale book sitting next to it. “…I understand, though. Why you did it,” Riku said. He imagined Ren looking at the illustrations as he drew, trying to capture what lived inside the pages. “It’s too much, and you don’t know what to do with it.”

Ren let out a soft breath. “…You really love him.” Ren knew it wasn’t a question, but there was concern in his tone. His eyes fell to the storytale book too. “…I looked through it again. What happened with your wings… You think it’s got something to do with the torn page, right?”

Riku nodded. There was no point in keeping it from Ren.

“What did it feel like? When you touched?”

Riku hadn’t let himself think of it. There had been so many other things to think about—Naminé, for one. His brother, for two. How they would feel. But as Ren looked at him, it was as if he could feel both their gazes on him, waiting.

“I thought it was lightning. I thought—something had hit us.” But now that the shock had had time to settle, Riku had thought of something else. “It was like… a shooting star, right in my chest.”

Ren laughed and shook his head, and for a moment Riku thought he didn’t believe him, but then he said, “Maybe your storytales are right after all.”

 

That night, he helped Ren chart his stars at the outpost. It felt like the least he could do after spilling his secret and upsetting Naminé, but Ren spent the whole time changing the subject away from her to ask about Sora instead.

“He didn’t stop you from going after Naminé?”

Riku’s wings flitted uncomfortably. “Not after I… I said I didn’t return her feelings. That’s when he told me to go after her.” Because he’d be waiting. He’d see him tomorrow. Riku checked the position of the moon in the sky. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Really?” Ren seemed surprised. Maybe he’d been expecting a storytale outcome too—where the new couple lives happily ever after with no thought for the person left behind.

Riku nodded. “He wanted me to tell her the truth. And make sure she was okay.”

Ren smiled. “Not that it probably matters at this point, but he’s got my blessing.”

 

After Riku returned from making auroras, Ren had another question ready. “What does he like?”

“Huh?”

“What does he like? Does he have hobbies? A favorite food?”

Riku stiffened more as each question hit, because he didn’t know the answer to any of them.

“Riku…” Ren chided.

“We only just… he’s… an animal healing fairy?”

Ren snorted. “Yeah, I can see that much, Riku. So it’s all been magic and hot flashes? You haven’t just _talked?”_

“We—When’s the last time _you_ talked to Naminé?” Riku shot back. “Really talked to her?”

Ren’s teasing smile vanished. Riku opened his mouth to apologize right as Ren sighed and said, “…For all those storytales we read, we’re kind of bad at this, aren’t we?”

Riku’s next breath came out as a sort of laugh. “So you read them a lot, do you?”

Ren shoved his shoulder, sending him briefly off balance. “I never said I didn’t! I’m just not as much of a sap as you!”

_“‘Oh Riku, do you think Naminé would like these pressed flowers?’”_ Riku teased, dodging a slap to the arm. _“‘I got them imported from Summer because they reminded me of her eyes—’”_

“Shut uuup!” Ren leapt up to push Riku’s head down, pumping his wings to put more pressure into his shove, and their resounding laughter lit up the mountain like an aurora of its own.

 

A little while later, when Riku was packing up to leave and get some sleep, Ren flew in front of him and held out his hand. “Pixie dust promise. I talk to Naminé—you talk to Sora.”

Riku’s mouth set, and he nodded.

Each of them took a pinch of pixie dust from their packs and sprinkled it on their palms. It was a precious resource, which made wasting it a serious matter.

“I talk to Sora,” Riku said. “Really talk to him.”

“I talk to Naminé,” Ren returned. “Come clean about everything.”

Riku and Ren brought their hands together, and as the dust sparked between them in the dark, they said, “Pixie dust promise.”

 

. ✺ · 　　 　　 ✫ 　 　 ˚ 　 　　 　 * ✹ 　 ✵ 　　　　 ✺ ✫ ⊹ 　　 * 　 · * ✵ * ✹ 　　 　　　 * 　 　 　 . ·

 

“You look awful.”

Sora rubbed both his eyes and blinked hard. Was it that obvious he hadn’t slept well? He’d only just crossed the threshold, but he was already regretting coming back to the bakery.

“What did Vanitas say to you?” Roxas was gripping his spoon like he was going to use it as a weapon.

“It was _your_ idea to talk to him,” Sora grumbled.

“That’s not an answer. Did you let him get under your skin again? Ven was out too late for me to ask what happened, and it’s impossible to wake him up.”

Sora sighed and picked up a blueberry they had on the counter. “I dunno, I just… I told him what was going on, and he wasn’t happy.”

“That’s nothing new,” Lea chimed in. Roxas looked at him, but didn’t disagree.

“So what else is it?” Roxas asked.

Sora turned the blueberry in his hands. There was a bruise on it where it had been dropped, or it had fallen, or it had come down with some sort of disease…

“Sora. Are you okay?”

“…Kairi and Olette said I should take a break.” He ran a finger over the bruise. “From animal healing.”

Roxas’ eyes flicked between him and the blueberry. “…I take it you don’t agree?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” He’d been up nearly all night, and he’d spent all of it tossing in his bed. He hadn’t even watched Riku’s auroras. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Sora…” Roxas’ gentle voice melted a little of his tension. “A day or two off wouldn’t kill you.”

“Or any of the animals you take care of,” Lea added unhelpfully. The tension came right back. Sora put down the blueberry and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You aren’t the only animal healer, Sora.”

“I _know,_ but...” Even now, Sora couldn’t say that he was the _best_ one—not out loud, no matter how many fairies had told him it was true. “But I have an obligation—I made a promise to the animals of Pixie Hollow.” And if he didn’t take a break, he wouldn’t have time to spend on day trips to Winter, on baking sweets with Roxas and Lea. If he and Riku kept themselves in separate worlds, there would be no way for them to use the power, even if they wanted to, and that would be that. He’d be healing animals the old-fashioned way, and… he’d feel no different than Vanitas.

“Maybe I should just… tell Riku I can’t make it today.” But even as the words came out, the idea of staying away from Riku made him feel lost, like trying to do his work in the dark.

Roxas folded his arms. “Well that’s a problem, because we already told Xion we’re baking something for him this morning. With you.”

“And if she sees Riku, she’s gonna tell him,” Lea said, though he might as well have been twisting his arm.

“You told Xion?” Sora whined, remembering that she spent a lot of time working at an ice cream stand by the border—right where Riku would be waiting. “Can’t you tell her I cancelled?”

“You’re not getting off that easy, Sora.” Roxas started pulling bowls out from under their table. “Now—what do you think he’d like?”

 

✵ 　 　 · ˚ ⊹ ⊹ 　　 ✧ 　　 ˚ ✵ · ⋆ * * ˚ 　　　 ✫ 　　　 　 ⋆ 　 ✵ * · ✷ . 　　　　　　 · ✵ · ✧ · ·

 

Riku floated at the crossing, fiddling with his gloves. He’d swapped his usual set for two longer ones that went above his elbows, and he wanted to make sure they were secure. The two of them had to be careful with their touch, now that they knew what it was capable of.

Sora had said he’d be back tomorrow—but he hadn’t said when, or where, and now that Riku was thinking of it, maybe he should just go back and try to get some sleep—not that he’d be able to sleep, but lying in bed would be better than standing out here in the open like a bird who’d missed migration.

He couldn’t feel where Sora was, so he wasn’t close enough for their wings to react. He really should just—

A freezing fairy—Xion—flew up to him after he’d been hovering awkwardly for whatever counted as “too long”. She must have seen him from her ice cream stand.

“Riku, hi!” She was holding a cone with a scoop of deep purple ice cream. “You seemed like you might need a pick-me-up—oh wait!!” She waved her hand. “Nevermind—you’ll be eating soon!”

Riku’s his wings drifted him away from her as he locked up with confusion. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing!” she said. Then, she flew a little closer so he’d hear her when she whispered, “My baking friends in Summer said they were helping with something for you today.”

Riku’s wings fluttered along with his heart. “Sora’s making something?”

She just winked. Then took a bite of the ice cream cone, as if she’d been planning to all along.

Sora was coming with something for _him,_ but he didn’t have anything for _Sora._ “Xion!” he said, too loudly.

She jumped, then expertly caught the scoop that had tipped off her cone. “Yeah, Riku?”

“Do Summer fairies like ice cream?”

She pursed her lips tightly to fight off a smile, and nodded. “Yeah, Riku. In my professional experience, _everyone_ likes ice cream.”

 

✵ ⋆ 　 * 　　　 · 　✵ * 　 . 　　 　 ˚ 　　　　 　 . 　 　　　　 　 ✦ 　　 　　 *

 

Lea flipped through their recipe book excitedly, sticking bright leaves on certain pages to bookmark them. Sora tended to forget how good he was at this. He held up a picture of flaky, triangular pastry with a dark orange filling. “We could make a spiced puff pastry—Xion can’t get enough of stuff like that.”

Roxas nodded. “Yeah, a lot of winter fairies like being able to taste things that are hot without them _being_ hot,” he explained. “Stuff that’s actually warm can burn their mouths.”

Sora frowned as he stared at the ingredients the two bakers had pulled out. He didn’t know much about Riku, admittedly, but he doubted that Riku was much of an adventurous eater. “Should we start with something… tamer?”

“Do you have anything in mind?” Lea had his fingers ready on the recipe book.

“What were those one cookies you guys made?”

Lea deflated. He seemed insulted.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Roxas said.

“The… soft, purple ones, at the spring festival?”

Lea started flipping, and found the recipe immediately. “These! The lavender sugar cookies with blueberry icing!”

“Those are tame, for sure,” Roxas said, flying up to lean over Lea’s shoulder. He glanced back at Sora. “But nice. You think he would like them?”

“I think so. I mean—I hope so.”

Sora thought back to the festival. He’d just finished splinting a particularly _difficult_ mouse’s foot, and showed up late in a near-daze, feeling spent, strung-out, and _starving._ Dessert was already being served, and someone had handed him one of the cookies.

When he’d taken a bite, it was like nothing else in the world existed. The fruity icing melted on his tongue, and as the cookie crumbled in his mouth, the weight in his chest had fallen apart with it. As if in response, his wings had started to drift him upwards like a dandelion seed. That cookie had been _sublime._

Since then, the only thing that could compare… was Riku.

“Well…” Roxas said, “…if he makes auroras up on the mountain, he’s got an outpost or something, which means he probably eats like a scout fairy.” He frowned. “It’s all… hardy stuff that’s just meant to give you energy.”

“What dear Roxas is trying to say, Sora, is that most of what the scouts eat is _gross.”_

Roxas made an affirmative noise in his throat. “…Fancy, fresh cookies would probably be nice. I know Ven always appreciates it.”

Sora nodded, a little distracted. He was trying to remember something else. “They put… fruit in the water at the festival, right?”

“Yeah—paopu. That was a nice pairing,” Lea said nostalgically. “It’s a little tart, but it really played well with the sweetness of the dessert.”

“Can we… add that to the cookie too?” Sora had no idea what should and shouldn’t be in cookies, or where. “If that’s allowed?”

Roxas and Lea looked at each other, then whirled towards their baking counter as the rivers in their heads rushed into motion.

“Should it be in the cookie or the frosting?” Roxas was moving some bowls they didn’t need.

“Let’s dice it up and put it in the cookie with the lavender.” Lea put the recipe book on a little stand they had attached to the wall. “Wait—do we have enough?”

“Yeah, Ven went to the beach the other day. We gave about half to winter, but it’s a big fruit.”

The two of them almost sounded like Tinkers doing calculations, and Sora had to flitter back out of the way as the two of them started buzzing around the bakery, pulling out trays, and knives to cut the fruit.

“Should I—is there anything I can do?” he tried, but Roxas and Lea had become Tinker mechanisms running out of control. Eventually, Sora was handed a bowl and a spoon which he gratefully accepted, and stirred until it was lifted back out of his hands.

“Stars or hearts?” Lea asked.

“Wh—”

Lea held up the cookie cutters. Sora felt his face go red as his mind sped forward to the moment of actually having to give the cookies to Riku. Hearts were too forward—way too forward. “Paopu are shaped like stars, right?”

Lea nodded, and started pressing the cookie cutter down furiously. It seemed to Sora like he was getting more excited the closer the cookies got to going into the oven.

Sora turned his attention to Roxas gradually adding the blueberries to the frosting, then stirring it and checking the color. Sora hadn’t wanted to interrupt them, but Roxas was about to add more blueberry. He darted forward and put a hand over Roxas’.

Roxas started like he’d been woken from a dream. “—Yeah?”

“Stop there. That’s the color.”

Roxas ran his spoon through the frosting and tilted the bowl to catch more light. It was a perfect shade of lavender. “The color of what?”

“Riku’s wings,” Sora said automatically.

He clamped his mouth shut as soon as he had time to process what he’d done, but a grin was already creeping across Roxas’ face. “Sora, you have it _so bad.”_

 

⋆ 　.. 　 　 * ✹ 　　 　 . .　 + ✵ 　 ✫ * ˚ 　　　　　　 　　 　 　　 　 ˚ 　 * 　　　 ✺ 　 ·　　 ˚ 　　 　* 　 　　 ˚ 　　· ˚ ✧

 

“Sssso what kind of flavors does he like?” Xion was sitting on top of her stand, swinging her legs as Riku examined the flavors she had. She’d flipped the OPEN sign next to her to CLOSED so they wouldn’t be interrupted, and had nearly finished her ice cream in the time it was taking Riku to make up his mind. “Is he a chocolate fan, more of a fruit guy…?”

“What’s this blue one?” Riku said, so he wouldn’t have to give her a real answer.

“Excellent choice, my good fairy— _that_ one’s sea salt!” She hopped down and joined him by the wooden tubs that held each flavor. “It’s definitely the most popular one.”

The most popular one didn’t sound special enough to match something Sora was baking himself. He frowned.

Xion narrowed her eyes and drifted closer, hands folded behind her back. “Something tells me… you’re not _satisfied_ with my selection,” she said darkly.

Riku’s hands flew up. “It’s not that at all—”

Xion let out a burst of laughter. “Oh, lighten up, Riku!” She cackled even louder. “Lighten up! ‘Cause you’re a light fairy!” After she’d taken several breaths and “hoooo”s, she pointed towards the shack attached to the back of the stand. “I make the flavors back there. How ‘bout we see what we’ve got?”

Xion led him back to her kitchen, if it could be called that. It was a complete mess—fruits and chocolate and empty cones scattered across every surface, the lids of the syrup jars all askew. But she turned to him and put her hands proudly on her hips. “This is where the magic happens!”

In spite of the mess, she immediately laid her hands on a shard of charcoal and a piece of parchment. Her wings were all but buzzing with excitement. “I haven’t made a new flavor in ages! What do you have in mind? Sweet? Sour? Caramel-y? And what about the texture?” She scooted closer with each question, until Riku found himself leaning backwards as she hovered above him.

“He… He’s like sunshine.” It was the first thing he could think of when cornered, and he immediately cursed himself for having said something so strange.

Xion put down her pen and paper. Riku’s eyes nervously followed her hand as it came to rest on his shoulder. “Riku. That’s _adorable.”_

As foolish as it had been, the word seemed to spark an idea in Xion’s head, because she cleared a space on one of the tables. “We’ll use a coconut cream base, and I’ve still got some banana, and oh!! I haven’t used the fruit Roxas gave me!” She shot behind a partition and came back carrying a bright yellow slice of fruit. “Look at this beauty!”

“Yes,” Riku breathed. “That one.” It was just the right shade—the color of how Sora’s warmth made him feel, the light of the summer sun.

It was the color of his wings.

“I haven’t used it in ice cream before, and I’ve been itching to try! Good thing Roxas’ brother found one, huh?” She produced a knife and cut off a small slice for him to try. “It’s like—it’s sort of like mango, but a bit like peach, too? And more tart. I’m not sure quite how to describe it, so—taste it yourself!”

Riku did. It was gently sweet, like Sora’s touch on his glove, but sharp, too—like looking at the sun a moment too long. Riku found his eyes drifting closed as he savored it like sunlight on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Xion prompted.

Riku nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Being on the border meant the temperature tended to be a little warmer, so Xion’s ingredients stayed fresh and cold, but not completely hardened by ice. She used her frost to freeze the banana pieces solid, then dropped them in a Tinker contraption which smashed them back into mush.

“So he can come over without needing his wings frosted? Just whenever, and his wings are fine?”

Riku nodded as he sliced the paopu—helping Ren with his star charts had trained his hands to be delicate.

“I wish I could do that—cross the border without worrying about my wings. I’d spend all day with Roxas and Lea.” She deftly whisked the coconut cream and added it to the banana, stirring until the texture was smooth again. “But it’s not like I can ask the Tinkers to follow me around with their snow-maker all day,” she added, a little sadly. She froze and mashed the paopu Riku had diced, then added them to the mixture.

Riku stirred as Xion held her hands around the bowl, summoning frost to gently and evenly freeze the ice cream inside.

Xion made making ice cream look easy, but then again, every fairy was like that when they got to let their talent shine. It wasn’t something Riku saw in himself, but maybe the shine was harder to see when it was coming from inside you.

Eventually, it was all frozen—the perfect texture for scooping. Riku held the bowl as Xion left to poke her head out of the shack. Without warning, a rush of warmth went through his wings, and he nearly dropped the ice cream. Xion reentered, her cheerful expression having spread into an outright grin. “Perfect timing, Riku! He’s here!”

 

. 　　 · 　　 ˚ 　　　 　 ✺ . 　　 ⋆ 　 　 ⊹ 　 · 　 .

 

Sora hadn’t gotten rid of _all_ the doubt in the pit of his stomach—that would take more than a morning of baking cookies—but he was feeling better about spending time with Riku. As he stopped at the border crossing, holding the sack of cookies in his hands, he felt his wings searching for Riku’s presence. Sora’s eyes fell to Xion’s ice cream stand by the border. Was Riku helping her work while he waited?

Sora touched down before the stand, looking between the CLOSED sign and the tubs of ice cream that were still out. Had something happened? “Riku?” he called.

A jangle of wooden bowls and utensils rang out as some sort of commotion began in the shack behind the stand. Suddenly, the door burst open and Riku nearly tumbled out, only just managing not to lose the scoop of yellow ice cream he was holding on a cone.

Their eyes met, and nothing else existed. Before Sora knew it, his free hand was on Riku’s. He pulled back as soon as he noticed, eternally grateful for Riku’s foresight to wear longer gloves. It was more foresight than he’d had, definitely. They’d drifted towards each other without realizing, and he’d reached without thinking. Sora brought his feet back into the snow, hoping he’d at least feel any sliding, and Riku did the same.

“Hi,” Sora said.

“Hi,” Riku said.

Sora smiled, but deflected it down towards Riku’s ice cream. “What flavor is that?”

“It’s yours.” Riku’s mouth moved but no sound came out, and he quickly held the cone to Sora. “I mean—it’s for you!”

“No fair!” Sora laughed, holding out the cookies. “I was supposed to go first!”

Riku’s smile joined his as their gifts traded hands. “I couldn’t show up empty handed.”

Sora held up the ice cream to catch the light. It was the nicest shade of yellow. “You made this?”

“Xion did, mostly. But I picked the color.”

Sora felt the winter air brush his warming cheeks. He bit back a smile. “I did the same thing with Roxas and Lea.”

* ✹ + 　 ✺ 　　　 ✹ * 　 . ˚ * ✧ * · 　 　　 　　 ✹ ·　　　　　　　 　　 . 　 　 ˚ ✺

As Riku opened the dark bag, it was like he could see the night sky tucked inside. The cookies were cut to look like stars, and sprinkled with sugar that caught the light like galaxies. Riku closed the bag again and looked at Sora, whose smile dropped into confusion as his wings raised with alarm.

“Is something wrong?”

Riku kept staring. Then turned back to the bag.

“Riku, are you okay?”

“They’re too pretty,” he managed.

Sora’s wings relaxed, and the smile returned to his face. “Riku, they were made to be eaten. That’s the whole point of cookies.”

“I’ve never…” he whispered. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

“Then today’s the perfect time to try,” Sora nudged.

Riku drew out a cookie, handling it as delicately as he would a snowflake. It shimmered even more in the sunlight, and Riku saw now that the frosting was light purple—lavender like the mountain clouds at sunset.

“They’re still a bit warm, so the bakers told me to let them cool off in the winter air a bit so they don’t burn your mouth.”

Riku raised the cookie toward his face, and felt the heat coming off of them hit his cheeks. But it didn’t hurt or sting, it just felt… nice. “…I don’t think they will.”

Sora held up the ice cream cone. It hadn’t dripped at all—the cold was keeping it pristine. “Then, together?”

✺ ⋆ 　 　 · 　　 　　 　 * 　✵ · 　　 　 ·　　　　　　 ✧ ✫ ˚ ˚ ✧ . 　　　　　 　　　 　　　　 ˚ 　　　　 .

Riku’s wings were singing with the anticipation, and judging by the way Sora’s fluttered at his back, catching light in rainbows, his were too.

Riku hoped the beautiful cookie could hear his silent apology just before he took a bite.

The sugar crystals met his tongue at the same moment the smell of berries hit his nose, and as his teeth sank into the cookie they found the bits of lavender and—baked fruit. He recognized the taste of paopu immediately, and as he did, it suddenly became stronger, like it was washing over his tongue.

Then there was coconut, and banana as the warmth of the cookie faded into cold. Riku’s eyes shot open as he looked back at the cookie still raised to his mouth. He turned it over, as if it might be hiding a bit of ice cream he’d gotten on his gloves, but there was nothing, and the taste was still in his mouth.

His eyes flashed to Sora, whose eyes were closed as his mouth hung slightly open, bright ice cream dripping from his lips. Then he jolted, and mirrored Riku’s motions to check that he’d just eaten the right thing. His wide, searching eyes found Riku’s.

Riku had time to wonder why he was suddenly looking at the sky, right before he fainted.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got your first indirect kiss? Better pass out
> 
> me: what if they use pieces of the same paopu fruit in their recipes  
> me, muttering back to myself: ohhh you goddamn genius
> 
> [I drew the cast](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1166913165977739266) and [sketched some scenes](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1168022404741783555) since posting the last chapter, hope you like them!


	6. Storytales

A flare touched Riku’s cheek, sparking across his senses until it reached the tips of his wings. His eyes fluttered open to see Sora’s concerned face hovering over him as he laid in the snow. Riku’s pack had slipped from his shoulder and now sat in the snow beside him, and his hands were empty—he must have dropped his cookie.

His _cookie._

They’d just—they’d just—

“Riku! RikuRikuRiku!” Sora hurriedly interrupted Riku’s lolling eyes. “Hey—” An even bigger flare as the world flashed white. “Ah!! Sorry, sorry!” Sora had touched his face again.

Riku’s eyes turned wildly to the sky behind Sora, a perfect blue to match his yellow wings. Light fairies could look at the sun, but right now there was another sun above him, shining too bright to bear.

“Deep breaths, okay?” Sora put a hand down on his chest, and Riku’s wheezing gasp of surprise was a start. “In, and out.”

There was a murmuring from somewhere, and Riku shifted his head to see a couple winter fairies looking at them, faces fixed with confusion. But then all at once, Xion appeared to steer both of them away with a, _“Give them some space! He’s with a healing fairy! Now that you’re here, though, might I interest you in some ice cream?”_

What had they seen? Who would they tell? Visions stormed across his mind in blizzards, images of the others finding out what he and Sora were becoming and pulling them apart before they’d even begun—before he’d fulfilled his promise to Ren.

“Riku.” Sora’s voice called him back. “In and out.”

He closed his eyes and forced himself to keep breathing. He’d panicked like this before, but his usual strategies to combat it had been scattered to snow drifts all across his mind. He needed his medicine seeds. He needed Ren.

Or he did, until Sora took his gloved hand and settled into the snow beside him. “It’s going to be all right, Riku.” One by one, the words melted the frost encroaching on his thoughts, and he felt his mind clearing.

In, out. “Is my cookie okay?” His voice had come out smaller than he’d wanted, but stars, he hadn’t finished it yet.

A laugh burst brilliantly from Sora’s throat, and he leaned over to look. “Yeah. It just fell in the snow. Do you want me to get it?”

Riku nodded, and Sora leaned over with his free hand to pluck it from the ground near Riku’s head. He blew the snowflakes off of it, brushing it with his breath, and held it out for Riku to take. Even through his gloves, the cookie felt… charged with something.

“Here, let’s try and sit up.” Gently, Sora slid his hand to the small of Riku’s back, careful not to touch his wings, and helped push him up. He kept holding his hand as Riku brought the cookie to his mouth, taking even more care to savor it this time. It hadn’t lost all its warmth, and for some reason, Riku was glad.

As he chewed, Sora pressed his fingers against Riku’s wrist and closed his eyes. Riku stared at his eyelashes, the freckles across his warm skin, but he stayed like that until the cookie was gone and Riku’s breathing had settled again.

“There we go,” Sora murmured as his eyes opened. “Your heartbeat’s calmed down.”

Riku hadn’t been paying attention to it between his breathing, but he could immediately feel it tick right back up again as his heart rose to thud against his ribs.

Sora laughed. “I guess I spoke too soon.” Sora shifted his fingers off of Riku’s pulse, but didn’t let go of his hand. “How are you feeling?”

Amazing. Perfect. “Better.” Riku remembered he wasn’t talking to one of his healing fairies. “Perfect.”

“That’s good!” Sora let out an airy laugh as more of his doctor veneer sloughed away, though it didn’t vanish completely. A small frown settled onto his face. “What is it?”

“What?” Riku looked around. Was something else wrong?

“What’s happening to us?” Sora went on quietly. “The wings, the healing, the…” His eyes flicked just below Riku’s nose, and Riku thought he saw Sora blush. He swallowed, then said, “Haven’t you wondered what might be causing it?”

Riku’s free hand flew to cover Sora’s, sandwiching his hands around his. “Yes.” He was suddenly rising on his wings, tugging Sora up with him as his hand pricked with the memory of the pixie dust promise.

“Really?” Sora’s wings fluttered with excitement that matched his own. “What do you think it is?”

Riku glanced towards the ice cream stand. “Can we talk somewhere… else?”

Sora nodded. “Somewhere in the trees?” He leaned to check the winter landscape, but Riku was looking in the opposite direction. He remembered what Xion had said, about wanting to see Lea and Roxas all the time.

Riku didn’t know where he was getting the nerve to be so bold. It could have been his promise to Ren. Or it could be the scrap of paper tucked between the pages of a book in his pack. Whatever it was, it stopped his voice from shaking as he asked, “What about Summer?”

“Summer?” Sora’s voice was low. “But Riku…”

“Your breath’s stopped fogging in the cold.” Riku pressed, hoping it wouldn’t reveal the attention he’d been paying to Sora’s lips. “And the cookies didn’t burn me.”

Sora’s mouth drifted closed without giving a rebuttal.

Riku thought of Xion, of all the winter fairies who never got to see Summer—the _real_ Summer that laid beyond the paths and trails the snow-maker could tread. If he didn’t take the chance they couldn’t, he’d have let them down. He’d be trapped in his small world forever. “If I start feeling sick, we’ll go back, but… but I want to see it.” He squeezed Sora’s hand. “I want to see your world.”

Sora turned, and Riku thought he was turning _away_ until he said, “Upriver… there’s an inlet in the shade. It’s always cool there.” He darted over and pulled his unfinished ice cream cone from the snow, took a big bite, and gave Riku a smile filled with the thrill of breaking the rules.

 

Riku followed Sora along the river, the two of them careful to keep low. They darted through rushes and reeds, trying to keep their laughter quiet even though the water served as cover enough. It was easy to forget how quiet Winter was, so much sound hushed below the snow.

Riku soaked in the smell of running water and wet plants, felt the mist off the rushing river hit his skin. It moved slowly down in trickles that were nothing like the ticklish sensation of frost forming on his cheeks, and he knew he was changing, just like Sora was.

“It’s just a little farther.”

“How did you find this place?” Riku asked, coming back.

Sora took a while to respond. “…One time, a fairy heard a sparrow crying in the inlet. She’d fallen into the water from her nest and her wings were too wet to fly, so he called for me and together we got her back into her nest.”

“Couldn’t the fairy fly her back himself?”

Sora pushed aside a patch of grass and hurriedly said, “We’re here!”

Riku flew to a stop, and froze. Slowly, his wings propelled him through the part in the grass, and he heard the blades brush behind him as Sora followed.

It was a small pool fed by a stream, completely covered in the shade of the trees that ringed it. The water was still, yet not as still as ice. It pulled what little light met its surface and sent it back out in twisting shapes that danced slowly across the bark of the trees.

Water didn’t move like this in Winter—it couldn’t. Water there had to be turbulent and churning to stave off the frost, but this was elegant, graceful. Riku sank to his knees on the bank, eyes wide and reverent as he watched the water play with the sun as if it were a light fairy itself.

“What is it?” There was wonder held in Sora’s voice.

“I’ve never seen light like this,” Riku breathed. He saw Sora leaning into his periphery, trying to get a look at his face. Against better judgement, Riku turned to him.

The light from the pool had found Sora too. As it danced through his eyes and caressed his freckles, Riku’s breath caught. He’d never paint an aurora as beautiful.

Then Sora got brighter, and Riku realized it was because he was scooting closer—close enough for their knees to touch. “Riku… What was it you wanted to say?”

Riku had all but forgotten. He thanked the stars Sora was here to keep his mind from being completely lost to the sky. He wrenched his eyes from Sora’s, and pulled the book he’d brought out of his bag.

Sora tilted his chin to read the cover. “A book of storytales…?”

“I’ve had it since I was young,” Riku said, opening it gently. It was a risk, taking it here. He hadn’t known what the warmer temperature might do to the paper, but it seemed to be doing all right. “And here, between the pages…” As if in response, the pages fluttered, and the book unfurled to show the torn illustration.

 

·　　　　 · ·　 　　　　　　 ˚ 　 ✦ ✧ . 　 　 　　　　 ˚ . * * . ˚ . · ✧　　　 ⊹ 　　 　　 ˚ 　　 ✧ 　 ˚

 

Sora stared at the picture. It was of two fairies, holding each other in the middle of a heart. Both of their wings were rendered in delicate latticework that matched perfectly. Whoever had painted the illustration had taken special care to copy the patterns of the wings, but not the color—one fairy’s wings were pink, while the other’s were a light green. Sora took the page and gingerly flipped it over, checking the back for any clues, but it just read,

_And they both lived happily ever after._

Every logical, objective thought Sora had ever had was lost in the blank sea of white that laid all around that single sentence.

_Happily ever after._

Sora had often thought storytales were silly things meant to make fairies feel better, to give them stories to tell each other when they had none of their own, but all at once he understood.

They were a magic all their own, and most of all, maybe they were true.

“Happily ever after,” he let himself say aloud.

“Happily ever after,” Riku matched.

As delicately as he’d handle a scalpel, Sora put the picture back between the pages of the book, and Riku brought it to rest in his lap.

“What do you like?” Riku suddenly said.

“…About you?” Sora liked plenty of things about Riku, and they were multiplying all the time.

“W-What?” he stammered. “No—no I mean, what do you _like?_ What do you like to do? Do you have hobbies? A favorite food?”

Sora’s face quirked with a smile. “You, healing animals, healing animals, and… well, maybe ice cream.” He chuckled. “Why the questions all of a sudden?”

“If we’re going to be… whatever we’re going to be, we should _know_ each other, right?” More words were coming out of Riku than Sora had ever heard in one sitting, which meant he must be serious. And very sweet. “So I’m asking questions of things I should know. I promised my brother I would.”

A sparrow cheeped from high above them. She’d grown a lot since Vanitas had found her. “…Your brother?”

“Yeah, his name is Ren. He’s a light fairy, like me, but he’s amazing. He charts the night sky and studies shooting stars, so we work at the outpost together, but he stays out all night, even after I’m done with auroras.” Sora watched Riku light up as he talked about his brother. “He fancies Naminé, but he won’t talk to her, but he promised me he’d talk to her if I talked to you. And of course I wanted to talk to you, we just haven’t had the time, like this, because…” Riku gestured between them. “You know. But I’m doing it, and I know he will too.”

“The two of you must be close.”

Riku beamed. “We’ve been a team ever since we were born.” He held up the storytale book. “We used to fight over this. I was the one who found it, but he takes it so much, it might as well be his too.” It almost sounded like Riku was sharing a secret, but Sora couldn’t bring himself to be happy for it.

The bond Riku had with his brother shone in every word he spoke, but to Sora, it was one more way he’d let Vanitas down. Whether they were brothers or not, the two of them had never been a team. They’d never made promises, or shared stories or secrets. Something had always come between them, in the shape of two wings.

As if on cue, Sora heard a rustle in the canopy of leaves. He knew what it meant.

From high above them, Vanitas’ voice fell onto his heart like rain on a sunny day. “Dive. Growing well, I see.”

He named his birds after memories of how they’d met. And they were _his_ birds—Sora had yet to hear of one that hadn’t let Vanitas ride them at one time or another, provided they were big enough to carry him. He’d tamed everything from wrens to hawks. Sora caught a flash of deep orange and a strip of black. Vanitas had brought his favorite mount—a kestrel he’d named Freefall, but now just called Free.

“I thought no one came here,” Riku whispered, clutching his book.

The trees above them bore down on Sora, growing heavier every moment. “I told you I wasn’t the one who found it.”

If Vanitas hadn’t noticed them by now, it was just a matter of time. Sora stood.

“Vanitas,” he called.

Yellow eyes glinted down at them between the leaves. There was a moment in which Sora thought Vanitas might somehow bring the entire forest crashing down on him and Riku, but then the eyes vanished.

Another rustle, and Free broke from the branches, Vanitas on his back.

 

✦ 　 ✫ 　 　　 ✹ 　 　 . . · ˚ 　　　　 　　 　 　 ˚ · 　 ˚ * . 　　 ✹ 　　　　 　 　· 　 　

 

“You brought a _Winter fairy here?”_ the fairy barked before his bird had even landed. “What are you thinking? Aren’t you supposed to be a _doctor?”_

Riku didn’t like his tone. “I asked to come.”

The fairy’s yellow eyes narrowed, and Riku noticed them dart to his wings, which stood straight—no signs of collapsing or failing, because Riku felt fine. But the fairy didn’t seem satisfied, because when his attention moved to Sora’s wings, his frown only deepened.

The fairy dismounted his bird, and as he turned and to shoo it away, Riku saw that he had no wings. And as the light of the water danced across his face like it had Sora’s, Riku noticed something else.

Sora soon found his words, but they had to be forced out one by one. “Riku, this is Vanitas. Vanitas, Riku.”

Vanitas. Riku stared between him and Sora. Their hair and eyes were different, but the rest of their features looked almost identical, save the wings. His eyes widened.

“A pleasure,” Vanitas scoffed. Then, when Riku didn’t pull his eyes away, he snapped, “What, did Sora _neglect_ to tell you that I—”

“You’re a lost spark,” Riku said.

Vanitas’ mouth opened and closed, face growing bright with anger. “What did you call me?”

Riku didn’t back down, didn’t bend, because he knew this one by heart. And now, he knew that it was true. “There’s a storytale about you.”

“What. Are you _talking about,”_ Vanitas hissed through his teeth.

Riku wordlessly handed the book to Vanitas, page open to the story.

The other fairy made to snatch it from him, but, to Riku’s surprise, took the book with surprising care. Sora drifted next to him, puzzled eyes on Riku.

As Vanitas held one half of the cover, Sora supported the other. The two of them stood, shoulder to shoulder, and read.

 

* 　　 * * 　 . 　　 · ⋆ 　 　　 · ⋆ 　* ✫ ˚ · * 　　 · 　　 . ✫ * . ✵ 　 　　 * ·

 

_There is no magic more powerful than the wondrous spark of a child’s first laugh, and it is from this spark that all fairies are born._

_But, once upon a time, a new child grew very sick. There was nothing to bring them joy, and so the laugh lay trapped inside their chest._

_With nowhere to go, the laugh grew weak, and the magic of its spark dimmed. When at last the child grew strong enough to set it free, instead of being carried through the skies to Pixie Hollow, the spark fell to the ground, heavy and lost and dying._

_But at the very same time, another child had arrived, new to this world, and this child let out the brightest fit of laughter the land had ever seen. A bright spark burst into the air, ready to bring joy to those who lived in Pixie Hollow, but something stopped it short, for its light found the light of another: the lost spark._

_The bright spark was just a spark—it had no mind for thoughts to form in, but it had feelings, and it could tell what the lost spark was feeling too. It was feeling scared, and sad, and every other bad emotion in the world, and the bright spark knew that was wrong._

_And so the bright spark joined its light to the lost spark, and it lit like a candle. The bright spark grew dimmer, its power now shared with another, but it did not mind, for the lost spark’s sorrow and sadness were already fading. Guided by each other’s lights, the two sparks rose to the skies, carried like tiny shooting stars to Pixie Hollow to be born at last._

_The sparks landed together, before a gathered crowd, but as they came to life by the magic of the Pixie Dust Tree, the other fairies let out a gasp of dismay._

_For though the two fairies’ faces were the same, they could not have been more different._

 

Sora had to force his grip loose in order to turn the page.

 

_The first fairy—the bright spark—pumped their wings, flying easily into the waiting arms of the others, but when the second—the lost spark—tried to join them, they stumbled and fell._

_They looked around the Pixie Dust Tree, their searching eyes filled with questions, but none of the fairies moved to help them up, because they were different._

_The second fairy had been born without wings._

_As the wingless fairy’s eyes filled with tears without name, the first newborn fairy turned, having felt the same tears in their own eyes. They burst from the arms of the others, and flew to the wingless fairy’s side._

_And as they guided them to their feet, the Lost Spark felt once again found._

 

Sora barely managed to pull back in time for his tears to avoid hitting the page, and let go of the book as he turned to wipe his face. Vanitas raised his other hand to hold the storytales steady, expression unreadable as Sora softly sobbed.

“I knew it,” Vanitas finally said, voice quiet and grating like a rock being rolled to show its underside.

“You…” Sora practically choked.

“I always figured it was something like that.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?” Sora blurted, voice trembling with tears. “All this time, I thought—I thought it was my fault.”

 _“Your_ fault?” Vanitas’ voice could have ignited the trees. “How could it have been _your_ fault? You thought I’d waste my time blaming _you?”_ His teeth were bared, but Sora thought he saw his yellow eyes catch with glossy light like the pool. “Blaming you for something that happened before we were _born?”_ Even without the ability to fly, Vanitas loomed easily over Sora, whose tears now flowed like tiny rivers.

“I…” Sora said, voice so broken that it must have shifted something between them, because Vanitas smoothed his face and his shoulders, and put a hand on Sora’s head.

“I’m not a fool, Sora. And I thought you weren’t either.”

“Vanitas—” was all he said before they flung themselves into each other’s arms, so quickly it was impossible to know who had moved first.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes inspiration from a hike I took in the woods, and also the writing of William Joyce! Do yourself a favor and check out his Guardians of Childhood series, it’s lovely.
> 
>  
> 
> [Catch up on art and updates in this twitter thread!](https://twitter.com/toppiegames/status/1142178711229423624)


End file.
